Home Coming
by TheShinonbiyoru
Summary: Hermione is asked to return to Hogwarts by Dumbledore. Little does she know that she is about to face the worst year of her life!SSHG.


Chapter 1: A day in the life of...Hermione Granger!

"Merlin give me strength! I have NEVER been late in my life and I refuse to be now!" Stuck in a traffic jam that would do the M5 justice sat Hermione Granger. The dashboard of the car was littered with bits of tobacco as she had smoked one after the other of her dreadful 'cancer sticks' as her mother called them. "They will do nothing but make your teeth enamel yellow," her father had chided as he noticed her packing away the cigarette packs in her handbag this morning, of which now had a broken zipper as she had wrestled her first pack of Menthol's out.

She had convinced herself that menthols were healthier as they tasted better, this dumbing-down of her usual intellect didn't work very well and the more she got angry about smoking, the more she did it. She hadn't even realized it but her left hand was straying from the gear stick of the old Fiesta and to her now 'easy access' handbag. Firmly putting her hand back on the gears she looked ahead, over the rows of roofs ahead of her, all gleaming in the sun, they weren't moving at all. She was going to be late. "Fuck it," she grabbed her packet and thumbed out a white stick, pressing the ignition in before placing the cigarette between her lips, sucking gently on the end in thought.

If she had a chance at quitting smoking she probably would have it at Hogwarts. She had received an owl earlier within the week regarding her application to the position of Transfiguration mistress as Minerva had taken on position of headmistress, Dumbledore was still there of course, but had decided that he was getting old and needed help with things. Hermione rolled her eyes and noticed that the pop that she had ignored was her ignition plug, she carefully lit the end of her cigarette on it and placed it back within it's hole. "Help my ass," she said aloud and the driver behind her caught sight of mouthing the words, "I bet this is his way of making me come back." and simply assumed that she had a break up with her boyfriend at sometime and was returning.

No sooner than they had left school they were being called back for meetings and none of them could hold down a proper job because of it. Harry and Ron were Auror's-naturally, but Hermione had gone on to try and set up a career in Magical Nursing. She had been delighted to receive her letter of thanks for her application to the ward, but then the news turned sour. "We are greatly sorry that you have not been successful in filling this position, but we a few more applicants that were better qualified than yourself, best wishes for the future." She had no future, well, until the letter had come through last Wednesday she hadn't. She was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that Dumbledore needed her more that he thought the mediwitch profession had, selfish bastard.

The traffic ahead seemed to be moving up front now, Hermione flicked her ash through the window, hoping, nastily, that the window in the car behind her was open. If she was cross then other people should be too. Testing that the car was in neutral she adjusted her feet and lifted her foot lightly from the clutch and pressed down on the accelerator in turn. She slid easily into first gear as the car in front of her moved along with the rest of the queue that were all now steadily moving along the road. She was careful not to watch the sway of the fluffy pink dice in the car behind her as she checked her mirror to make sure the female driver behind her wasn't coming too close as to 'bumper' her. Nodding to herself Hermione took off behind the blue Sedan in front, thanking whatever gods were listening that she was now on the move towards her old school.

As Hermione passed the ambulance and fire-engine that were now at the scene she glanced left to see what the pile up was about and wished she hadn't, medics were now covering a body with the zipper, morgue time. Looking back to the road she frowned angrily as she thought she could have helped someone like that in the wizzarding world if it hadn't been for Dumbledore meddling. She wasn't sure when she had started resenting the hold he still had on her and her friends, the members of 'The golden trio.' Although she was sure it had been along the lines that she had read on the letter from the witching ward she had applied to. Clicking from second and then third quickly she overtook the Sedan, making very sure to ignore the disapproving pair of older eyes from the worn leather of the drivers seat, she was on a mission.

A few miles up the road she noted the turning she ought to take to get to the 'meeting' point and pushed down her indicator to go left. She wished she had a flying car like Mr. Weasley had, well, had had was more like it-as now it had been confiscated for, 'causing a menace to the muggle world,' had been the words that escaped one of the 'Magical Mystery' worker's lips as he signed for it to be taken away. Her cigarette now finished was thrown unceremoniously through her window as she zoomed along her desired path, she was now able to close her window, the cold air was getting rather chilly. It wasn't the best day to go on a picnic she though with mild amusement at one of her mother's sayings. Not really having anything to occupy herself with doing, other than driving of course, (which was like second nature these days) she looked at her radio and decided that she should help lighten her mood. She pushed the tape in that was half hanging out of the mouth of the cassette player installed by her father and heard one of her favourite songs call out to her from the speakers behind,

"I don't know what's worth fighting for,

Or why I have to scream,

I don't know why I instigate,

And say what I don't mean,

I don't know how I got this way,

I know it's not all right,

So I'm breaking the habit,

I'm breaking the habit tonight!"

Hermione mouthed along to the words of Linkin Park, not really her usual choice of music but after hearing them over the radio one day, while in a particularly bad mood she decided that they appealed to her more 'rough and ready' side. Snorting at her choice of words she remembered how they were usually used, 'rough and ready' was a term for a bad girl, things always were to do with sex-there was no escaping that. Hermione had ventured into adulthood at the age of 18, she had-unlike many people would have though-not had sex with Ron or Krum. Ron was her friend for heaven's sake! And Krum, well, Krum didn't really talk much. Not that she thought that you had to hold a discussion whilst indulging in the pleasures of flesh, but, well...he was just too quiet anyway and probably wouldn't have talked about doing the 'dirty deed' after. And then she would of course have been stricken with the fact that he may had thought it was, for want of better words, crap and didn't want to talk about it for fear of hurting her feelings.

Hermione's trouble was she thought too much for her own good. She was always analyzing a situation before going headlong into it, that was probably why she never had many boyfriends. She saw most of the boys that were interested in her, and surprisingly that had been quite a few, as more of 'hump me, dump me' types. She analyzed them before she even got to know them, and her analysis usually came up with a big red cross through their picture in her database. A cold, calculating, alien. That was probably how most people saw her, well, except her parents, her good friends and maybe the few people she had bothered to get to know.

The first sexual encounter was with a boy 2 years her senior, he was a muggle. She found muggle men safer than a wizard in the long run-if the lad had got out of hand a quick smack or a dousing of pepper spray would have fixed his ardor. Now, with a wizard it could have been a hex to deal with. Muggle men were-face it, less interesting, but safe. It was sex. Not good sex, not bad sex-an inbetween'er as she called them. Hermione had decided that she was tired of being safe. She didn't want her life to be mapped out by her over-calculating brain or her nervous disposition to not do anything hazardous to her health, or others. This was why 'rebelling' Hermione had been created.

Rebel Hermione was created one night after she had been watching a programme that was on the TV one late night in March, it was based on a woman that didn't let her inhibitions get the better of her and decided she should get as much out of life as she could before she died. The change from the once prudish, frumpily dressed, middle-aged woman to the adventure junkie, funky dressed hippie was incredible. After she had seen that programme she took stock of her life and decided that she was too 'frumpy' by far. Tossing out all her 'old' clothing and re-inventing herself took time, but it had been worth it, and rebel Hermione was born early in May.

Two songs had now passed since she had started thinking about her life and the changes she had made to it. She was now driving down a cobbled street towards a small town, which seemed to consist of children hanging around corners of streets like odd signposts. She eyed a few of them that were laughing and pointing at the ground as she went slowly past. There amusement was because it seemed that they had set something on fire. Smoke was rising from a pile of something in front of a sallow faced youth, about 14 years old she would hazard to have guessed. At 14 Hermione had entered Hogwarts and had began to study like mad. If only these children had been given the same chance that she and her friends had been given. She shook her head as the youth's disappeared behind her in the darkness that now fell. Hermione glanced at her map, which was on the passenger's seat; half covered by her bag and noted her red line that showed her where she was supposed to be going. It looked as if she was nearly at the collection point, another few yards and she would be in a car park as she noted the large P at the end of her red line.

The street lights were flickering by the small SPAR shop that was just after the right turning to get into the car park. The shop seemed nearly as deserted as the streets, it was a Friday and just past 8pm. She would have expected some people going out after work and spending their hard-earned money on liquor. Hermione thought that she damn well would have been spending her meagre savings right now if she hadn't have been driving out miles to help her old headmaster. Not for the first time today she realised how silly that sounded, "I can't go out because I am helping my headmaster," she said aloud and sniggered, what a great line that would have been to use as an excuse to her boyfriend-if she had one that was. Frowning as she indicated to go into the car park she decided that she was in need of a little bit of romance, or maybe just a quick 5 minutes somewhere.

The car park was small, dark and very un-inviting, "no wonder no-one comes round here, and it's practically a ghost town." Selecting one of the ample parking spaces she span her wheel round to slide into it quickly, if somewhat, un-evenly as she had encroached upon another parking space to her left. She turned the key in the slot and her speakers went dead at the same time. She had almost forgotten the music was on, until the words of 'Night wish' were silenced with an abrupt end in the middle of one of their best songs that she possessed. She removed the tape player with minimal fuss and popped it into her glove compartment, along with her graffiti ridden map. She took her mobile phone out of the holder that was on the dashboard, checking the time before she popped it into her pocket. Glancing at the time that glowed with the pressing of her thumb on one of the keys she noted that it was now 8:30pm. Time was on her side as she was 5 minutes early, she was supposed to be collected by a member of staff at 8:30 exactly, she always set her clock 5 minutes fast as she preferred to be 5 minutes early rather than late. Just enough time to spark up a fag.

Hermione closed the door to her car and locked it, then leaned against it's door whilst rummaging through her handbag for a lighter and cigarette. So engrossed in what she was searching for in her handbag that she didn't notice a figure approaching her until it was less than 10 feet away, "Give me the handbag and your keys to the car lady and you won't be hurt." Gasping slightly Hermione dropped the bag in surprise and watched as the figure came into the flickering light that was above a small squared off piece of turf. The man looked in his mid 30's, with a slightly premature graying by his sideburns and small paunch, which looked to be mainly due to his filled pocket at the front of his hooded sweatshirt. Clothing for muggers her mother called it, all the youth's around her area seemed to be wearing them at the moment as if they were a new trend. On better inspection he wasn't one of the homeless as Hermione had assumed, they usually asked for money on doorsteps which she politely replied to, 'I don't have any change, sorry,' they made her feel uncomfortable and put upon but never afraid. The man in front of her was a different case, he had slightly blood-shot eyes and matted hair, he looked like a drug addict, and by the smell of him an alcoholic too. These types of people were dangerous. Needing money to fuel whatever addictions they had.

The man came closed as she remained rigidly upright pressed against her peeling, red car door. She was thinking ten to the dozen of what she could do to stop him if he pulled out a weapon, not a lot sprang to mind except her wand and she wasn't sure if there was any CCTV rigged up behind the shops in case of burglars. In any case the wand was inside her bag, which was now, lying crumpled on the floor at her feet, her belongings spilling forth from it's useless zipped opening.

"Please, take what you want," was all she could utter from her tight throat, she felt as if she hadn't drank for days. It was surprising the result that fear had on your body. Her toes had curled inside her trainers, her hands balled into fists in a protective way and her heart had doubled it's normally steady rhythm. She felt it was best if she complied, she would rather give it all up than risk her life for a rusty car and a few packets of ciggie's. The only one thing of importance in her bag was her wand, money she could do without but her wand, well that was a problem. Perhaps he would ignore it and throw it to one side in his effort to find something of value.

"Your keys aswell, throw them close to me, no funny stuff now. I gotsa knife if you try anything," brilliant. She was in shit so deep she would be breathing it soon. Her heart fluttered at her rib cage as a bird may do in a cage; it wanted to tear from her chest and hide. Hermione tossed her keys over into the middle ground, the key rings jangling against the tarmac and coming to a halt a few feet away from her mugger. "Think'll come and get that bag meself, rather than you throwin' it over to me, it'll gimme a chance to get a better look at yah." He stooped to pick them up as he walked towards her, her chest heaved in an effort to accommodate her rapidly filling and emptying lungs, oh gods, she hoped he didn't rape her too. She looked down at her bag, the pepper spray's white top gleamed from the recesses of the bag, if only she could-"Now whadda we have here?" too late. The smell was terrible, it took all her strength not to cover her mouth and nose, for fear of him stabbing her. She hadn't seen the knife yet but she recognized the jangle of things she heard in his front pocket, one of them probably was a knife-there were probably more than one.

"Well now, aren't you a pretty young thing, let me take this first an' then we can get better," he lowered his voice at the last word, "acquainted." He certainly didn't mean tea and crumpets. Now was the time she wished she had taken up self-defence. Being reliant on her wand wasn't good enough in a situation such as this. As the man kicked the bag backwards the wand rolled out and made a hollow noise across the floor, glancing to his side the man backed off slowly until he was a foot away now and not so in Hermione's face. "So whadda we got?" he bent to pick up the wand, his peripheral vision noting where it was on the floor as he kept his eyes on Hermione. "A stick? Now what would you be wanting with a stick?" his face cracked into a smile, "unless your into 'discipline' of that sort? Or maybe something else..." he muttered darkly as he turned the stick over thoughtfully and reached into his pocket, now brandishing a knife that Hermione had rather wished he hadn't.

Will our heroine be all right?

Will She ever get to Hogwarts?

Will I ever manage to finish this story?

Tune in next time for chapter 2, where thing's get...interesting.


End file.
